


a toned down place where happiness is king but tragedy has a better ring

by spock



Category: The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Growing Up, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack swoops his arms open wide with a smile, gesturing to the scene before them and says, "Boys," with a whole wealth of meaning that goes right over Barrel's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a toned down place where happiness is king but tragedy has a better ring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coricomile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/gifts).



They're the only children in Halloween Town for a long time. Until suddenly, one day, they're not.

*

Barrel wakes up too big for the dresser drawer he fell asleep in.

The night before had been Halloween, their best one yet, for Barrel anyway. He'd won their annual scaring competition for the first time, had frightened a child so terribly that she'd dropped to the ground and lapsed into a seizure. It'd been wonderful. The mayor handed Barrel his award with his smiling face, and the fit of jealousy _that_ sent Lock and Shock into made the hoard of candy Barrel gorged himself on later that night taste just that much sweeter. 

He'd expected to grow a little bit wider after stuffing himself like he did, but that isn't what's happened at all; Barrel stretches out his toes and realizes he's gotten _longer_ instead.

*

Shock is eager to ditch them, doesn't bother with wasting time for proper insults or teasing, too caught up in packing her bags. Barrel feels slightly put out by the whole thing. For the first time in their lives he's taller then either of them, more than a few inches over six feet, and he'd been hoping she'd join in with him on mocking Lock for topping out at five-foot ten.

He sits next to Lock on their raggedy couch and they watch her tear around the house in silence. Barrel rubs his hands together worriedly, trying to figure out what they'll do without her bossing them around. He's nothing but skin and bones, can't feel a lick of muscle when he rubs at his fingers. He hasn't gotten the chance to look in a mirror yet, can only hope that his face still suits him without all the baby fat. He gently prods the sunken hollows of his cheeks, the sharp jut of his chin. He can see Lock watching his movements out of the corner of his eye, silently switching his attentions between Shock's frantic movements as he packs, and Barrel's slow, tentative ones. Any other day, Barrel's face would be flushed red over Lock's gaze focused on him, so he suspects the lack of heat in his cheeks means that he doesn't have veins, either.

Where Barrel has thinned, Lock has thickened. 

He's still as gorgeous as ever, Barrel notes, but there's so much more of him now, thick muscle wrapped around his bones in spades, as if to make up for Barrel's obvious lack of it. They aren't sitting particularly close, yet Lock's arm presses tightly against his own due to the sheer mass of him, the heat of Lock's skin radiating into the chill of Barrel's. It doesn't warm him up at all, but it's a nice feeling all the same, like staring at a fire through somebody's window. 

It takes all of twenty minutes for Shock to pack up every last bit of her belongings. She tears out of the treehouse and sprints her way to the Witch's dorm on the other side of town without a second glance or parting word. 

"Well," Barrel breathes, breaking the silence left in her wake. "What'll we do now?" Lock doesn't answer him, instead pats Barrel's leg a few times, a half-hearted gesture of comfort that he's only ever sent Barrel's way when nobody else is around to see, before he stands up and collects his shoes.

Barrel tries not to read too much into it, tells himself not to notice that Lock placed his hand on Barrel's thigh rather than his knee, and that it felt more like a litany of strokes, rather than pats.

*

Jack answers the door before they've even had a chance to knock.

"Just the boys I was looking for," Jack greets in that excited tone of his, the one that says he has plans that involve you, ones that you won't be able to worm your way out of no matter how hard you try. "Wait," he stops dead in his tracks and frowns, points at Lock, Barrel, and then the empty space between the two of them. "Where's the other one?"

"She was a _girl_ , Jack," Lock tells him snottily, flashing his teeth, blue lips stretched thin, contrasting nicely against the slightly reddish pallor of his otherwise pale skin — or Barrel thinks so, at least. 

"I don't see how that's important," Jack dismisses with a wave of his hand. "I suppose she's off to turn the witch duo into a trio, hmm?" Neither of them bother answering, and Jack continues on, always content to hold an entire conversation with himself. "Oh well, it's no matter; you two are more than enough."

There's a tiny little wolf chasing Zero around Jack's den, growling and tearing up the floor with its little claws, reckless and uncaring of the way it seems to constantly be on the verge of slipping and tumbling into the lit fireplace. Jack swoops his arms open wide with a smile, gesturing to the scene before them and says, "Boys," with a whole wealth of meaning that goes right over Barrel's head.

"Oh no," Lock says, with seemingly every ounce of feeling in his body. Barrel looks between him and Jack, confused. 

"Oh _yes_ ," Jack insists.

*

Barrel isn't overly excited about the whole thing until Jack tells him that they get to name him. "Flintlock!" He shouts, like he's calling dibs instead of naming the town's newest resident.

"We're too young to take care of a kid," Lock complains. He's sacked out on the couch, watching Barrel roll around on the floor with Flintlock, a hard look in his eye that Barrel doesn't quiet understand and feels too intimidated to ask about. 

"He's basically a dog. No need to feel threatened," Jack deadpans. He's been trying to get them to leave for the past half-hour, but Barrel's been pretending not to notice any of his hints, and he knows Lock's been doing the same, just to piss him off. "Besides, aren't you excited to be _dads_ , Lock?" Jack adds, voice vicious and taunting, in the way he gets sometimes. 

Barrel ignores the last part since it wasn't directed at him and asks,"Does that mean he'll never shift out of it?" At the same time, Lock sneers out, "Shouldn't Wolfman take care of him?" It makes Barrel pause in the rubdown he's been giving Flintstock, eyes drawn to Lock, wondering what's gotten him so angry.

"I don't think so, but I'm sure you'll deal with it just fine if he ever does," Jack answers, turning a deaf ear to Lock entirely. "Now I really need you three to leave."

*

Barrel tries to chase Flintstock around their treehouse, but his feet make it so it's hard for him to keep up with the kid. Flintstock's a smart little thing, catches on quickly that he loses Barrel whenever he runs too fast, and adjusts his speed accordingly, trotting around so that Barrel has a chance at keeping to his heels, only taking off again when Barrel's fingers brush his fur. Lock shakes his head at them and acts above it all for a while, until he finally cracks and joins in on their game of tag. They tear around the house until Barrel can't bare to move another inch, drops down onto the floor in a mess of sprawling limbs.

"This isn't completely terrible," Lock decides, sitting next to him. He's barely even breathing hard; Barrel would be embarrassed by his own lack of fitness, but he's never been one to be ashamed of his body, chubby or stick thin, so he figures that it would be stupid to start now. "I mean, I'm used to leading two idiots around. It would've felt weird if it was just you and me."

Barrel rolls his eyes so hard that he worries that they might just pop right out of his skull. "Wouldn't want you to feel weird," Barrel says with mock-earnestness. Slowly, Flintstock edges closer to where they're sitting on the floor, tentative, skittishly hopping back every few steps like he expects one of them to snatch him up, unsure if their game is really over or if they're playing opossum and waiting for him to slip up. "I can only imagine how hard it would be for you to get used to something new, what with your stunted brain and all."

"Ha ha ha," Lock shoots back, voice dripping with sarcasm, but he's smiling, not bothering to hide it, or ugly it up into a sneer.

Flintstock finally gets within arms reach and they both grab him at the same time, dragging his wiggling, furry body between them as they attack his heaving belly with their fingers. He howls and yowls and tries to nip at their fingers. They don't stop ticking him until the noises he's letting out transition into pained whimpers.

"Never underestimate us, Flinty," Lock brags. "Just because we're older doesn't mean we're dumb like the rest of the idiots in this town." 

"Oh wow," Barrel stares down at Flintstock as he speaks, biting back his smile. "Does that mean I'm not lumped in with the idiots for once?"

"You're all right," Lock concedes. 

He and Lock pet at the soft fur of Flintstock's belly to help his little body calm down, their fingers constantly touching, getting tangled up together. Barrel doesn't mind one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> lock, ~~shock~~ stock, and barrel are the three components that make up flintlock. have a very happy halloween!


End file.
